


the wires are all that's left of me

by mishaphappens



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Dubious Consent, Insanity, M/M, Nemeton, Possession, Real or not real, Season/Series 03, Season/Series 03 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-30
Updated: 2014-01-30
Packaged: 2018-01-10 13:51:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1160444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishaphappens/pseuds/mishaphappens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He brings his hand up, curling a single finger and heaves out, “One,” past his scorching lungs, desperate for air.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the wires are all that's left of me

Stiles opens his eyes and stares at the brick wall for a long moment.  He tries to recall where he’s seen it before but his mind is fuzzy.   His eyes eventually drift to the large windows overlooking Beacon Hills and he thinks vaguely, _huh, that’s just like the one in Derek’s loft_ , before he realizes its _exactly_ like the one in Derek’s loft.

He turns his head and there he is, sleeping on his stomach next to him.  His arms are burrowed under his pillow, the blankets pushed down to expose half of his bare back.  Stiles blinks rapidly, belatedly realizing he’s naked too underneath the blankets.  He lifts them up just to make sure and yes, naked and something is on his stomach and Stiles reaches out, rubs his fingers against the crusty remains, but he already knows what it is, and he lurches out of the bed.  His legs give out on him, however, as a sharp pain resonates from his behind and Stiles stumbles his way to the bathroom, breathing sharply through the knot forming in the back of his throat.  He slams the door closed, can’t even be silent about it, and braces himself against the door.  His mind races as he tries to remember how he got here, what happened with him and _Derek_ , of all people, but his mind is a blank, a dark hole eating him up.  He grasps onto the sink and tries to breathe, but it gets lodged against the knot in his throat.  His throat is closing in, he can’t breathe, and he can’t remember how he got here, because it has to be a dream, a dream, and Stiles gasps at his reflection in the mirror, trying to concentrate on the terrified boy in front of him.

 He brings his hand up, curling a single finger and heaves out, “One,” past his scorching lungs, desperate for air.  His vision darkens as he puts up a second finger, tries to stare at them as they come in and out of focus and, “Two,” jerks painfully past his lips.  He was at home, he was getting ready for bed, it’s just a dream, he’s dreaming, wake up, Stiles, and toothbrush in his hand and he looked up, “Three,” Stiles gasps out and he doesn’t want to look, doesn’t want to see, but he looks back at the boy in the mirror, but he doesn’t recognize him, who is that, who is that, and his reflection smiles and whispers, “Four.”

 

Derek wakes up fully when he feels Stiles crawls over him, lips brushing his jaw and then down his throat.  Stiles takes his time there, nibbling his way to his shoulder.  He can feel Stiles pushing the blankets down and he wiggles helpfully to speed their descent and Stiles naked body presses against his.

“You okay?” Derek asks, voice deeper with sleep as Stiles uses the tip of his tongue to trace Derek’s tattoo.  Derek frees a hand from underneath his head to reach behind and run the pads of his fingers down his hip, past Stiles’s beautiful backside, to the soft flesh of his inner thighs.  “Thought I heard you get up.”

“Bad dream,” Stiles murmurs, parting his legs more fully so they incase Derek’s hips, his half hard dick nestling between Derek’s cheeks.

“Mm,” Derek hums, baring his neck when Stiles demands more attention to it and rolling his hips gently, smiling as Stiles’s hips answer back.  “Want to talk about it?”

“No,” Stiles breathes.  “Rather fuck you.”

“I’m okay with that too,” Derek breathes, grunting as their hips find a rhythm with each other, bringing Stiles to full hardness, sliding between the warm crease of his ass.  Stiles pants against his sweaty throat, sending shivers down his spine.  Precum from Stiles’s dick eases the way and sometimes the head of his dick catches against his hole, teases it, before breaking away and sliding up.  They rut against each other almost desperately, and Derek might not be able to reach his dick, but rubbing against the bed seems to be enough.  Derek grasps Stiles’ hip just as Stiles nuzzles behind his ear, and licks at the mark those monsters left behind. Derek shudders unexpectedly, his dick oozing out a startlingly amount of precum, his balls tightening up.

“Stiles,” Derek groans, wrecked, and Stiles smile into his hair.

“Five,” he murmurs and his breath hitches as he comes, splattering on Derek’s lower back.  Another brush of his lip against the mark, and Derek’s whole body rolls with sudden orgasm, choking on a groan. 


End file.
